Reverend Marco Ste-Marie

The water we swim in

There’s an old story that goes like this. Two young fish are swimming along, and they pass an older fish swimming the other way. The older fish nods at them and says, “morning, boys. How’s the water?” the two young fish swim on for a while. Eventually one of them looks at the other and says, “what is water?”

I love that story.

Not because the young fish are foolish, but because they aren’t. They’re just doing what fish do. They’re swimming in the only thing they’ve ever known. The water is everywhere, all the time, holding them up, moving them along.

Of course they don’t see it.

Why would they?

The prophets make us aware of what kind of water we are in. They awaken us to where we are spiritually.

Amos and the prophets are not optional reading for christians who care about jesus. They are the soil out of which jesus’ own message grew.

Jesus did not invent the call to justice — amos and the others taught jesus what justice looks like.

Amos was a shepherd from a small town in the south. He was not a priest. He was not a politician. He had no platform, no podcast, no following.

One day god called him to leave his sheep and walk north to speak to a wealthy and successful kingdom. And what he said was hard.

He said: i see your beautiful festivals. I see your carefully prepared offerings. I see the music you make in your sanctuaries.

Amos is not against worship — he is against worship that masks injustice. Beautiful liturgy is a gift; empty liturgy is the problem.

Some have quoted “let justice roll down” without doing the hard work of asking what justice requires of them.

A faithful reading keeps both worship and justice. Amos calls for a marriage of the two, not a rejection of one.

And i see something else, too. I see the courts where the poor cannot get a fair hearing.

The gate” was the public square where elders sat as judges. Court cases were heard there.

To “push aside the needy in the gate” meant blocking poor people from getting a fair hearing — often by paying judges off.

I see the bribes changing hands. I see the needy being pushed aside. And these two things cannot live together.

Bribery was so common it was almost normal business. The poor had no chance.

Then he said the line that has rolled through the centuries: let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Israel sits in a dry land where streams (wadis) often dry up in summer. Verse 24’s image of an “ever-flowing stream” would have hit hard — that kind of stream was rare and life-giving.

This image speaks of justice as constant and reliable, not a one-time event.

The civil rights movement’s love of amos 5:24 — quoted famously by dr. King in his “i have a dream” speech

But once you notice it, something shifts.

You get a choice you didn’t have before.

Mishpat (justice) — more than fairness in court. It means the right ordering of a whole community so that the weak are protected. It is a society-wide word.

Indigenous and racial justice: amos calls god’s people to reckon with how they have benefited from systems that harmed others. Right relations work fits this prophetic call.

Climate and creation justice: “let justice roll down like water” can be read with new urgency in a world where water itself is becoming a justice issue.

Rosemary radford ruether

For ruether, amos’s image of justice “rolling down like waters” also resonates with ecofeminist theology.

Water is a creation image; justice flowing through the land includes the land itself. A society that crushes the poor will also crush the earth, and a society that restores justice will also restore the soil and the streams.

The “justice” that should roll down like water is not legal vengeance against wrongdoers. It is a fair distribution of land, food, time, dignity, and rest.

The opposite of justice is not lawlessness but greed —

If god defends the oppressed, that includes women crushed by patriarchal structures. Amos’s call to justice has to widen.

I’m not going to stand up here today and tell you what the current is in our valley. I don’t think that’s my job. I think that’s our job, together, with our eyes open.

Every family has patterns. Every town has a history. Every community has habits around who gets heard and who doesn’t.

That’s not a conspiracy.

That’s just how human groups work. We inherit currents that were running long before we got here.

The whole point of “the water we swim in” is that we do not see the systems we live inside until something opens our eyes.

Amos was that voice for israel — the outsider who could see what the insiders could not.

• His message asks us: what systems are we so used to that we do not see them?
• Who is being pushed aside in our gates?
• Is our worship shaping us into people who care, or letting us off the hook?

The question amos puts to us is gentle and hard at the same time. Are these the currents we want?

Notice that amos doesn’t tell the people of israel that worship is bad. He doesn’t tell them to stop their festivals. He tells them that worship and life have to flow together.

The singing on sunday and the courtroom on monday have to be in the same river. When they’re not, something is broken — and god notices.

God identifies with the poor. The needy pushed aside in the gate are not just unfortunate — they are people god personally defends.

God notices the righteous afflicted and the needy pushed aside. They are not invisible to god, even when they are invisible to society.

Lines up with micah 6:6-8 (“do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your god”).

That’s the work.

That’s the invitation.

What is “the gate” in our world? What is “the noise of your songs” today?

The gate today might be: court systems, immigration offices, housing tribunals, school board decisions, town councils, and the rooms where rules get made about people who are not invited to those rooms.

The festivals and songs today might be: church services, conferences, social media posts about faith, charity galas, and worship gatherings — anything that looks good but does not change how we treat people.

The “needy” today might be: those without housing, refugees, indigenous communities, those struggling with addiction or mental illness, low-wage workers, the working poor, the elderly without family.

The call is to act. Not just to feel sorry, not just to repent privately, but to let justice flow.

The passage invites us to:

• Trust that god cares about the world’s brokenness.
• Act by working for justice in the places we have influence.
• Hope that justice is possible — god says “let it roll.”
• Repent of our part in systems that push others aside.

Kelly brown douglas

Douglas is an african-american episcopal priest, womanist theologian

She writes: “until we hold ourselves morally accountable to our past and dare to take prophetic responsibility for our future, then our present realities will continue to be defined by the worst of who we are and not the best of who god calls us to be.”

So friends, may we have the gift of seeing the water. May we be honest about the currents that carry us. And may we, together, let a little more justice roll through this valley — like a river that does not run dry.

Amen.